The Pawn and the King | Short Story

In the days when chess transitioned from a game of long-term strategy to one of quick and tactical maneuvers, there was a lofty, lanky, and pale king who spent his nights in the southern tower of his stone castle. This castle sat on a bluff overlooking his kingdom to the north, a kingdom whose inhabitants were predominantly men of the field, but who regularly hosted games of chess in their houses as their main source of entertainment.

These men worked in their fields during the day and rested at night, casually drinking, laughing, and playing. As it is with most groups, there is one who stands out among the rest as the leader and the best, and for this lowly group of farmers, that leader was the elderly Mr. Clay, whose seven sons worked on his farm. He had lived through the transition of chess and thus he knew both ways to play.

Clay, though old, had the smartest mind when it came to chess. He played conservatively and each game of his went the same way. He moved slowly and methodically, and as soon as his hand released the current piece, it would already be his turn again.

His games lasted the longest, but they were also the most entertaining because he treated his entire board of pieces as if they were of equal value. He did not mind losing a bishop if it meant he could capture a rook in three moves with a lowly pawn. And that was his secret: the pawns. Because of their low point value, the younger players normally overlooked them and just used them to try and bait the old man. But he believed that they were essential to a successful game, or else, as he would ask his sons, “Why would there be so many of them?”

While these games were purely for leisure, the pale King Claus studied and trained for his matches between other kingdoms. During the day he practiced against other members of his court and at night he snuck away to his tower to study chess theory, taking notes of all the situations that ran through his head.

And even with all that labor over “the perfect method,” he only focused on one piece at a time. His custom-made set revolved around the king, which looked just like him. At the end of each match, he put the king in the box first, and the rest of the pieces suffocated it.

Between all the kingdoms a challenge was proclaimed; each kingdom was to send their best player to compete against all the others in a tournament whose winner would receive the first of many trophies and his name forever engraved in the Chess Hall of Fame. Word spread quickly and soon Clay was nominated by the people to go and compete for the kingdom. But Claus would not have it until Clay beat him himself. So one night, Clay made his way south to the Claus Castle to duel the king.

The castle was strange in that it was taller than it was wide, and it was built with each corner facing a cardinal direction. Inside the castle there were three areas; a barracks, a training ground, and a smithy. The king’s bedroom was up in the south tower, and his wife slept in the west. They had no children.

The sun had just begun to set, but there was still light in the sky. Clay just carried his box of pieces with him. As he approached the north east gate, it opened and the guard saluted him. It slammed shut behind him and his guide appeared to take him to the King. They crossed the grounds, dodging arrows from archers who could not stop their training. Clay did not speak; he figured it best to clear his mind before the game.

As they approached the base of the tower, Claus watched from the highest window, repeating to his wife how he would complete the match tonight. He had decided to switch his schedule, so he had worked on his theories throughout the day to be best prepared for the duel that night. He hurried his wife out of his room and Clay arrived a short time after.

The room was without decoration; it only had a small bed, a desk which housed all sorts of knives and shivs, and a table with two chairs. There were four circular windows, one on each wall, but they were boarded up for the night. The only light came from the chandelier above the table, and on that table was the chess board.

Claus was already seated in the eastward-facing chair. The two men made eye contact and Claus motioned to Clay to sit in the eastern-backed chair. He sat, and both placed their boxes on the table, unlocked them, and placed the pieces onto the board. Claus was done before the old man, as he was about the same age as Clay’s sons.

Clay went first, and Claus quickly countered. Clay took his time on the next one, and Claus again went quickly. So went the entire game, until it became apparent that Clay was going to win. Claus offered for the men to take a break, and he sent for water. The men stood up and Clay surveyed the room. He had no idea how long he had been seated at the table. He looked back at the table; he had seven pawns, a rook, and his queen and king left, while Claus had only his king and queen. Claus’ wife brought up water and entered the room to see the board.

She looked at Clay and said: “Seems like you are about to kill him.” He smiled, nodded, and then sat back down. Claus had been standing by the desk while his wife spoke with Clay. When he came back he sent her away, and Clay thanked her as she left and he sipped his water. The door closed and then it locked. Clay’s head snapped up when he heard the lock, and then his gaze shifted from the door to the king, who was holding a knife.

“I don’t think you’ll be wanting to lose, Mr. Clay.” The king set the knife down on the table and moved his queen into a check position. Clay grasped his king to move it out of the way, but his eyes closed and he fell forward onto the board, knocking his king over. The king picked up the knife and placed it back into the desk.

Three days passed and still the king did not leave his room, nor did he eat or drink. He placed his pieces back into their box, king first. When his wife came to retrieve the body of Clay on the third day, Claus placed the body in a nice box and had it shipped off to his family with his sincerest apologies for the inadvertent death of their father, who just “could not handle the strain of a three day match,” or so claimed the note attached.

When the sons received the package, they set out for the castle after immediately burying their father. As they neared it, the eldest tripped over a dead woman’s arm, sleeved with a fine linen. When they arrived at the castle, they found the gate open and the grounds bare. They searched the castle together for the king and found him in the west tower. He was seated near the only window, which looked down at the grounds. When they left, his blood was dripping through the cracks in the floor.